Love is the End
by x-the-rising-x
Summary: He is holding on forever. That is, unless she tells him to let go. B/L. Possible two-parter.


**Love is the End**

**Pairing: **Brooke/Lucas

**Rating: **Pg-13

**Spoilers: **I guess up to before the break up (so, 3x22).

**A/N:**__I started this oneshot a long time ago, and amidst abandoning my investment in OTH and B/L, as well as all my fics, I abandoned this as well. It was originally meant to be a oneshot, but I haven't had the heart to finish it, and I figure all the BLers deserve a little something to make them happy. It can be considered a oneshot at this point, but just know that if I ever get around to it, there will be a part II at some point in the future. Also, I'm not very happy with it at all. I think it's far from my best writing, but maybe I just have an aversion to it because I'm not really shipping anymore. So hopefully you all will be satisfied.

--x--

_Singing a song with your feet on the dashboard_

_The cigarette streaming into the night_

_These are the things that I want to remember_

_I want to remember you by_

_- Keane _

_Christmas, 2008_

"Lucas Eugene Scott, you're driving me crazy pacing around like that," Karen scolds from her place at the stove, where she's seasoning the potatoes. "Go talk to your friends."

Lucas groans but obeys his mother's orders and retreats to the living room. It's December of his 18th year, and they all have come home for Christmas. While most of them left town mere months ago – after graduation and, in some cases, not until the end of August, Lucas Scott still feels as though they've all been apart for years.

Peyton is seated by the fire, fawning over Lily. The 6th month old baby girl, who sees her older brother when he comes home from Chapel Hill every other weekend, screeches and points when Lucas enters the room. Peyton just laughs, golden hair back in those curly locks that everyone loves. Currently attending Savannah School of Art and Design, Lucas can't remember a time where she looked as happy as she does now.

"Face it, Hales," Nathan says from his spot on the couch next to his wife. "He chose basketball."

Haley scowls. Jamie is currently crawling across the carpet, amusing himself with a miniature rubber basketball – the play guitar lies forgotten on the floor.

"I refuse to accept this as evidence," she mutters, folding her legs underneath her. The room laughs, save for Lucas, who moves to the window and pulls open the blinds.

"Chill out, Luke, she'll be here," reassures Nathan.

Peyton checks her phone. "She texted me about ten minutes ago saying she'd be here any minute."

Lucas collapses into an armchair, placing his head in his hands. This new piece of information hasn't eased his nerves at all – the prospect of seeing Brooke Davis in just a few minutes makes his heart race and his palms sweat.

"You know they're going to end up married," Peyton says through a laugh, as if Lucas wasn't in the room. Nathan and Haley both agree, and the older Scott doesn't even bother refuting her claim.

It's odd, really. They spent all of senior year avoiding the discussion of what would happen after graduation. And then all of a sudden it was June, and she was off to California for the summer, and for college. Attending UNC, Lucas would be over 3,000 miles away. They both realized it wouldn't work.

The breakup was sad and painful, but also mutual. Understanding that they were both barely 18, and had hardly known any other relationship, they realized it was all for the best. It all ended on a Sunday morning, right before her cab left for the airport.

But with that breakup also came a sense of hope. Because even as he told her he would wait for her, and she silently shook her head with tears in her eyes, they both knew it was true. And then she whispered the one thing that made him know their relationship would never truly be over.

_"People that are meant to be together always find their way in the end." _

The front door slams. Lucas snaps out of his reverie. A loud commotion occurs as the living room occupants stand and move to the hallway to greet the person who's just entered the house. Lucas hangs back, hearing loud squeals erupt from 3 separate female voices, and then one loud booming laugh from his brother.

He braces himself, and moves to the doorway of the living room. There she is – barely inside, pulling off her leather jacket. Her small shoulder bag has been forgotten on the floor as she dives into the arms of Peyton and Haley. Her brown hair long and dark and straight – shines even more than he remembers; her bangs are clipped on top of her head. Dimples appear on rosy cheeks and, dropping his head, he seems the jean-covered legs that seem to go on for miles, with boots that end at the knee.

Brooke is clearly enamored by Lily. Her hazel eyes brighten as the baby grabs onto one of her perfectly manicured fingernails. Lucas realizes that he could make his presence known, but instead chooses to lean against the doorframe and simply watch her.

After a few moments, Brooke tears her eyes away from Lily, and looks around as if searching for someone.

"Where's Lu – " she stops midsentence when her eyes fall on him, and his attempts to not break out into a huge smile immediately fail. He grins, and she squeals, and all of a sudden she's catapulted herself into her arms.

"Luke!" Her hair smells like lilacs and coconut, and as he lifts her up and her legs wrap around him he's reminded of all the times they used to be in this position. He laughs, and steps back, bracing himself.

"Hey, pretty girl." He smiles and drops a kiss on her forehead. "I missed you."

---x---

Dinner is enjoyable. Deb shows up at some point, and after awhile she and Karen disappear to the living room to tend to the children. It's Christmas Eve, and Lucas realizes that if all he got this year was all of his friends under the same roof for one meal, he would be perfectly happy.

Inevitably, he and Brooke end up next to each other. Things should be awkward, but other than a few bumping elbows, their conversation hits no bumps or roadblocks. There are no shadowed apologies for not calling more, or remarks shrouded with hidden regrets.

For tonight, they are all in their bubble of happiness. Peyton rattles on about Jake, and about how big Jenny's gotten. "You have to bring them next year," begs Haley, and Peyton promises that she'll drag them to Christmas Eve dinner the following year.

"We _should_ make this an annual thing," Nathan chimes in.

Lucas's heart swells. "It's the only time we all see each other, after all. I mean, what with you and Haley up in Virginia, Peyton down in Savannah, and this one" he nudges Brooke "across the freaking country."

"That would be nice," Brooke says through a genuine smile.

"And soon there's going to be an ocean separating you from us, so who _knows _when we'll see you again," Peyton teases.

"What do you mean?" Lucas turns to Brooke, confused.

She twists the napkin around in her lap. "Well I found out a few months ago that I got accepted to Parson's Paris School of Art and Design. I'm transferring this spring."

Lucas looks around the table. In addition to Peyton, neither Nathan nor Haley looks very surprised. He looks back to Brooke.

"You found out in September?"

"I wanted to tell you but – "

He shrugs. "It's fine." He clears his throat and looks away. There's a short, somewhat awkward silence as the table waits, and then he stands. "I gotta' go, uh, check on something."

As he leaves the room, Haley moves to follow him, but Brooke holds up a hand.

"It's fine – I should talk to him," she says through a tight smile, pushing back her chair and pursuing Lucas.

She finds him on the front porch, leaning over the railing and staring up at the stars. "I was going to tell you." She stands next to him and folds her arms over her chest to protect herself from the cold.

"I know," Lucas says quietly.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah…fine." He looks up at her. He doesn't look fine. The evening had been a blur of excitement, and she'd barely even had a chance to look at him yet. Though it's only been half a year since she's last seen him, he seems to have aged considerably. It might just be the way he carries himself, but Brooke is starting to look at him as a man, not just the teenage boy she let go of six months ago.

"Lucas…we said that we were going to try and – "

"I know!" he yells and Brooke recoils. He softens his voice. "I know. It's just hard, you know?" She nods. "To think of you going off to Paris…and to know that I'm not going to see you for probably another whole year…it's hard."

She doesn't say anything. They both know what's hanging on the tip of her tongue – the question. _Do you want me to stay? Do you want me to come home? _But they both know she won't ask it. Because they both know he'd immediately say yes, and that she'd move back home in a heartbeat.

That can't happen. So instead, she places her hand on top of his on the cold railing. "I told you not to wait for me, broody."

He lifts her hand and presses her knuckles to his lips. "Bullshit," he says through a smile, and pulls her back inside.

---x---

Brooke stays in the guest bedroom, while Naley, Jamie, and Peyton drive off to the Riverside for the night. At some point during the night, it begins to snow, and she pads to the windows to watch the flurries descend on the quiet town. Returning to bed and sliding in between the covers, the last thing she thinks before slipping off into sleep is how perfect this Christmas is.

She dreams about things that she'll never admit. Like waking up in Lucas's arms, sharing a short kiss, before being bombarded with squirming children. One, two, three. Two boys and a girl. With dimples and squinty eyes. Small, warm bodies climbing on top of their mom and dad. Laughs and smiles and kisses within a family on Christmas morning.

She is wrenched out of her peaceful slumber when, around 9 am, Peyton comes sprinting into the room, jumping on top of the brunette. She doesn't wake up in Lucas's arms, and it's not her small son or daughter that attacks her. But she's only 18, and it's her best friend, so Brooke smiles anyway.

In the living room, after coffee and pancakes, Brooke holds Lily in her arms. Lucas finds a seat next to her on the couch, and they spend most of the morning cuddling and passing the sleeping baby between the two of them. The rest of their company, including Karen and Deb, just smile and shake their heads, passing knowing glances around the room.

Peyton gives everyone a copy of her second benefit album, which contained certain tracks of artists they all love. Brooke squeals when she sees Ryan Adams on the track list. Nathan and Haley's gifts to everyone contain various trinkets from their trip to Indonesia the previous summer. Brooke and Lucas almost die laughing when they realize that they've both given each other season 1 of Weird Science on DVD.

Brooke has an early flight back to school. Lucas wants to push her to stay – she's only been here a day after all – but everyone knows that if she stays any longer, she'll never leave. So a little after noon, she throws her overnight bag into the back of Peyton's car. The blonde will drop her off at the airport before returning to school.

Inside the house, she says her goodbyes to Nathan and Haley, to Karen and Deb, and to adorable little Jamie and Lily. Lucas follows her out onto the porch, and Peyton waits in the car.

"Are you going to call me?" asks Brooke, not meeting his eyes.

"Do you want me too?"

"I don't know." She settles her eyes on the snow covered front lawn. She doesn't mean to be vague, but truthfully she isn't sure whether hearing Lucas's voice over the year will make things easier or more difficult. "Probably not."

He nods, and she doesn't need to explain that her statement wasn't an insult, because he understands. They hug, and Brooke remembers how saying goodbye is always the hardest part.

In the car, Brooke stares vacantly out the window and begins to blink back tears. Peyton clears her throat and pretends not to notice.

---x------x---

_Christmas, 2009_

"Je dois partir. Je te téléphonerai plus tard. n'oublie pas de rappeler Jack à qu'il y a la réunion."

The French rolls off of Brooke's tongue as she paces around Lucas's small kitchen. The blonde smiles from his place at the sink drying dishes, not yet accustomed to how easily she has picked up the language from her year in Paris. When he hears her snap her phone closed and throw it to the table with a frustrated groan, he turns.

"Something wrong?"

Brooke rubs her temple. "I just don't understand why people feel the need to bother me on Christmas Eve. What is so important that can't wait until tomorrow?" she asks in an annoyed tone as she returns to the sink, rolls up her sleeves, and dips her hands into the soapy water.

It's nearing ten o'clock, and everyone has already left for the Riverside for the night. Brooke and Lucas have ushered Karen out of the kitchen and in to bed, with promises that they would clean up the mess from dinner. Karen only agreed because she knew they had ulterior motives. What with Jake here, and not having seen him in forever, Brooke and Lucas hadn't really had a chance to just talk – something they've been aching to do for a year.

"I guess that's what happens when you're a famous fashion designer," Lucas teases and Brooke splashes him with water.

"If I had known I would have so much to do, I would have _not _signed up for this."

Mere months after moving to France and enrolling in the Parson's Paris School of Art and Design, Brooke's clothing line had taken off. While still attending classes, set on earning her Bachelor of Fine Arts, she had spent most of the year jetting to all of the fashion capitals of the world, promoting her ever-growing company.

However, it's clear to Lucas, in the way that she carries herself, that Brooke is tired. She's more dressed up than she was last year, and has her hair cut in severe layers with bangs that reminded him of her hair senior year. But her eyes, in a weird way, seem to have lost the sparkle that they held before. Like she had gone off and seen the world that she was always aching to see – only to find out that it wasn't all she had expected. Like getting everything she ever wanted wasn't nearly as satisfying as it should have been.

"I'm proud of you," he says after a moment, and she looks up at him. "I always knew you were going to change the world."

"Says the bestselling author," responds Brooke through a laugh, sticking out her tongue. Lucas just smiles sheepishly. "Everyday, I bet you have girls falling head over heels for your writing…and for you."

It's meant to be a light remark, but Lucas frowns and shrugs. "Not really. Besides, it's not like I would pay attention if they did."

Brooke cocks her head and hands him a cup to dry. Their hello's today had been less animated and enthusiastic – more sincere and sober. She thinks it's because this time, it's been a year since they've seen each other, not just six months, and other than a couple phone calls, neither of them really know what the other has been up to. In her emails with Haley and Peyton, she doesn't ask whether Lucas has seen anyone else, and she's fairly sure he doesn't ask about her either.

Now though, in the warmth and familiarity of his kitchen, standing in such close proximity to him – something she's been aching to do all year – talking to him about her relationships, or lack thereof, doesn't seem as discomforting or awkward.

She can't ask him though. Every time she opens her mouth to casually quiz him on his love life, the words get caught in her throat, and instead she focuses her attention on the dishes she's washing.

Instead, he asks her.

"So…uh…have you…." His words trail off, like he's trying to find the way to phrase his question.

"Have I what?" Brooke asks, staring down at the soapy water.

"Have you been…seeing anymore?" his question sounds guilty – like he doesn't even think he deserves to hear the answer.

"No." She responds quickly and truthfully. "I mean…I tried. It's kind-of difficult to walk around Paris without getting hit on," she says through a short laugh. "But my heart was never in it, you know?"

Lucas nods. "I feel the exact same way."

"I haven't slept with anyone," she says abruptly, and then immediately blushes. Lucas lets out laugh. "Sorry…too much information?"

He shakes his head. "No, it's actually kind of a relief." He looks over at her and smiles. "Neither have I."

---x---

"I can't sleep."

Lucas rolls over in bed to find Brooke standing in the doorway to his room. She's wearing flannel pajama bottoms and a UCLA sweatshirt – her hair pulled up in a messy bun. Wordlessly, he slides over and motions for her to come in.

She slips in between the cool sheets and pulls the covers up. They are about six inches apart, and, lying on his side, he watches her as her eyes lock on the white ceiling. Her chest rises and falls with even breaths, but he can tell instantly that she's far from sleep.

"I miss this bed."

It seems that this is a night for blatant comments, although Lucas understands that she wasn't alluding to anything sexual. But apparently, she feels the need to clarify.

"I mean, I miss the way it smells. And this comforter," she adds, patting the quilt on top of her. She rolls onto her side and presses her palm against his t-shirt clad chest, until he can feel his heart beating against her hand. "I miss you."

He realizes now that this would be the appropriate time to kiss her. What had she expected, after all, would arise by her sneaking into his bed in the middle of the night? He aches for her in all parts of his body, and in all parts of his heart. The need to be closer to her – which arises over and over throughout the year – is only swelling as each second passes.

Still, he hesitates. Her comment – the raspy _"I miss you" _– didn't sound particularly sensual or seducing. It sounded sad and anxious – the whisper of a lost teenage girl who is still holding tightly to her first and only love.

She looks and sounds small and young. He considers this, while ignoring his insatiable desire to hold her and kiss her. Beckoning her closer, Lucas pulls her into his arms, where she shifts slightly, settling herself against his form.

They fall asleep like this – Brooke's small back pressed up against Lucas's sturdy chest. Eventually in the night their heartbeats fall into synch – and the blonde lies awake for hours with his lips tickling the warm skin of her neck, listening to the two of them breathing as one.

Tonight, they both dream of the future – an inevitable future – but one that which neither of them can commit to yet. She wakes sporadically during the night, locked tightly in his warm embrace, never once attempting to shift away. This is the only time they have to be together all year. She won't waste one minute of it.

In the morning, Haley and Peyton stumble in on Brooke and Lucas. Fully clothed, to the slight chagrin of the giggling girls, but asleep together nonetheless. The two tiptoe out and leave the slumbering teenagers to an entitled few extra hours of sleep. Eventually they do drag themselves out of bed. Gifts are exchanged and the growing babies are coddled.

"What's going on between you two?" asks Haley at some point, pulling the unsuspecting brunette into the kitchen. Brooke just shoots a shy grin at Lucas, who is smirking at her from across the room.

"We're not in high school anymore, Hales."

---x---

In the afternoon, they throw snowballs like little children. Brooke runs and screeches with glee, hair damp and matted from the falling snow. Lucas laughs and the cold rips into his chest with each breath, but somehow he doesn't care,

Somehow he ends up hovering over her. They've collapsed into a snowdrift, and Lucas drags himself up to straddle her. She laughs out – puffs of hot air appearing into the cold afternoon. Her cheeks are rosy red – her dimples prominent and deep. Her eyes sparkle in a way that he hasn't seen in a long time.

"You win." She sticks her tongue out.

"So what do I get?" he lowers his voice, as if someone else could possibly hear him, despite the fact that they are the only two outside. And then he does the one thing that feels natural.

He bends down – touches the tip of her nose to his, and then places a gentle kiss on her plump lips. It isn't passionate or full of angst – it's simple and sweet. It's like a reminder of a promise he made to her long ago.

_Someday, _he thinks. She nods, even though he hadn't said anything at all.


End file.
